Harmony
by starsarefading
Summary: A luthier builds instruments and there's such a lot of world to see. Spoilers of 5.14. LL.


**Disclaimer:** Bite me, ASP. Oh, and I own nothing.

Note: This was a very quickly written fic, one of those flash ideas. Done while listening to Moon River. Moon River's play count at iTunes: 37. Hee. Inspired a little by an article on luthiers I read a while ago.

A shout-out to **Lauren**, the gorgeous girl who beta-ed this one.

* * *

"Yeah, I was home and I couldn't reach the phone so I ran over here, I knocked but there was no answer...," Luke replied, coming toward Lorelai, his hand motioning to the door like it would show her what had happened. When he appeared in front of the railing at the very place she'd been staring at, she moved her gaze down to the ground.

"So I tried the loose window, but I'd fixed that last week, and then I realized I'd fixed all the stupid ways...," he continued, not emphasizing the word 'stupid' like he usually did; maybe for her benefit.

"I broke the back door lock and I ran inside, but you weren't there," he told her like he'd been worried about something happening to her, like he didn't know that it was about him. Sometimes it never was about him, was it?

She gulped and said "oh, my God" in a hushed tone.

"It's okay, I can fix it," he told her calmly.

"I'm so sorry. Luke, I will never do this to you, ever again...,"She stared, but didn't really see him.

She saw it finally dawn that the message was about him, did he think it could be about something else? Maybe he thought she was in trouble. They were friends, first. His jaw hung open.

She rolled her eyes, thinking of what she had done. It was an impulse, of course, but she did know what she was doing; she knew him better than she thought she did. "I knew if I called you'd come. I never should have done that."

"It's okay," he replied, pleading her to forget the whole thing, to not get wrapped up on all that. He did sound forgiving.

"No, it's not okay. It's not okay, I'm not that girl. I'm not the one who cries and falls apart and calls her -" she paused, her stomach dropped, "- ex -" She gulped, her throat felt dry. She played with the tape in her pocket, contemplating the chances of her breaking it before he had a chance to hear the message again. "- boyfriend to come and _save_ her."

He looked like he had just lost hope, and gave up talking while she babbled.

Goddamn it.

**Harmony.**

She takes a breath, but it doesn't make her any braver. Someone should push her inside; then there'd be the "blah-blah pushed me in" excuse. As it happens, she doesn't have an excuse. She doesn't like to be the first one to give.

_A luthier builds, or repairs, stringed instruments._

Lorelai takes a confident step forward, it's easier than originally thought. The second step comes after the first and soon she can hear the bell ring over her head. She never used to pay attention to it before. Half a second after it rings, three heads have already popped up. From the Ice Cream Shoppe, Taylor stares at her, properly indignant. This messes up his pink-blue chart; now he has to re-arrange things.

Her eyes flicker nervously between the few people in the diner, earnest smile on her face. Don't people have anything better to do at 5:30PM than sit in a diner? Society is no longer the same: people used to have lives, she thinks in mock disapproval, they used to have jobs! Inhaling deeply, she makes her way to the counter. Hands joined together, resting on the formica nervously; she can barely breath.

An angry voice fills the room - Luke is yelling at someone. Their voices come closer, it's something about a bad deliver. "I ordered hamburgers," he yells. "You brought me steaks! You brought me steaks, fourteen hours later than I expected hamburgers. Does this look like a steak house?"

There's no answer.

A small, skinny boy comes into her view, his back to her. He's walking towards the door and Lorelai fears this kid is gonna need some treatment for his back after it undoubtedly hits the wall. "No, sir. But it says here -"

"I ordered hamburgers," Luke states dangerously.

Just when everyone thinks the boy is doomed, Luke stops, dead in his tracks. He spots her. Skinny kid sees his chance and quickly backs out, leaving Luke with a small "I'll bring hamburgers. And - take the. Hm, steak". Then the color disappears from his face, and he realizes his disrespectful manners. "Sir." In a flash, he's gone leaving the bell ringing madly behind him.

This seems to awaken Luke, who comes out of his daze just quick enough to run to the counter and see the boy reaching the delivery-truck. He notices everyone staring, probably not because of the fight, it's an usual occurrence now. "If any of you wanted a hamburger," he tells everyone, "you're not getting it."

Lorelai's eyes don't leave him while the surprise ending of the fight enfolds, and she doesn't miss the moment when Luke awkwardly turns his eyes to back her, ignoring the excited people around them.

They both stay stiff for a moment, not knowing what to say.

"I wanted a hamburger," she lies with a faltering smile. Her voice comes out rough and strange so she clears her throat before continuing, "I guess I'll go now then."

He doesn't say anything and only when she reaches for her purse does he snap. "There's coffee."

"Oh. Then. Hmm. Coffee, please."

He nods and gets her a cup. She crosses her arms protectively, very aware of the people around, shamelessly awaiting for the drama to come. Luke pours her coffee and stands there. Lorelai bites her lip and he realizes that he's watching her while she takes a sip of coffee.

_It's a delicate task._

He looks around and all the attentive eyes instantly look down. "What are you watching?" he asks, even though no one's watching anymore. Lorelai shoots a warning glare at Kirk, who's moved from the table he was sitting on to one closer to them.

Then turning back to him, she smiles uncomfortably. Raising her cup a little, she says, "best part of my day."

He nods and doesn't answer. He's about to go serve someone else, but stops and turns back to her. "Why are you here, again?"

The small crowed makes funny noises. Lorelai's eyes widen at the question. "I wanted a hamburger," she tells him again. The last happy memory she has of them is of her parents wedding - ironically. Dancing to _Moon River_.

_Stradivarius with a piece of wood; building come before the music, or is it the other way around? _

The bell rings for the third time and Lorelai's head turns in a weird ninety degree angle to see who walked in. It's Patty, looking flushed. "Taylor called me," she explains, smiling and not looking a bit ashamed to burst in announcing that she's there to spy.

Luke glares at Taylor through the connecting window, and the elder man looks scared at the turn of events. He soon disappears out of view. Lorelai's almost amused when she thinks that someone's gonna get theirs.

Patty shakes her head. "Come on, now," she tells everyone, but no one moves. "Let's go," she says in an order, and most people mumble and complain, getting up from their seats. "Give these kids a chance."

Kirk is the last to get up and he looks strangely conspiratory as he moves to talk to the woman in a low voice. Patty sighs. "No, I don't want pictures. Go home."

Kirk turns to Luke, panicked, before rushing out. Patty shakes her head, although Lorelai isn't sure if it's because of Kirk or because she's deliberately missing some good scoop. Lorelai smiles at her thankfully but before going out herself, Patty whispers loud enough for her and Luke to hear, "call me after." Lorelai feels her jaw drop slightly.

Dragging her gaze from the door to him, she smiles. "I'm not gonna call her."

Luke glares before going to the windows and closing the blinds. He also makes sure to close the blinds of the Ice Cream Shoppe window. Then he turns to her and she wishes they weren't so alone now. She bites her lower lip and then suddenly remembers something.

Rummaging through her purse quickly, she's relieved to find the transparent blue box. "You left your toothbrush at my place."

_The details, the quality of the wood, the placing of the strings; it all has an influence on the music, that's why a luthier has to sometimes be an artist, as well._

He frowns. "I had another one here."

Her triumphant smiles vanishes into the thin air. "Oh. No, of course you do." She shakes her head. "I mean, you're clean. Not in a freakish Monica sort of way, but clean, much cleaner than I am. Or more orderly. But that doesn't have anything to do with a toothbrush. Although you do know where you keep yours, so that's good." Her eyes move around quickly, not knowing exactly where to settle. "You're clean. No, I knew that," she provides less than smoothly.

His right arm lifts in a shrug. "I am clean."

"I know. That's good," she adds, feeling enormously moronic.

He smiles, she likes it. "Thank you, anyway," he tells her, taking the box from her hands. His fingers brush hers ever so slightly, her heart begins to race, she shivers and wonders if he's shivering under his flannel, too. It'd be nice.

_Harmonious, beautiful to look at and impeccably unique._

"Why are you here?"

She frowns and twists her mind for something to say. He looks at her curiously, his face strangely clear. "I had a really bad day," she says.

His expression softens for only a second, before going back to empty. Maybe she's hurt him more than she thinks.

"Rory is... Rory. But you are you." Luke stirs, he's not looking at her like she's mentally challenged, but she can tell that he could be. She narrows her eyes, tries to find a way to explain. There's nothing there, and she sighs. "And I needed you."

His eyes follow her lips, follow her, trying to understand. Trying to come to terms with it. "Not just tonight, I've been... I needed you for a while, now."

She suddenly doesn't look all that good. He sees the dark shade under eyes, the slightly bonier fingers, messy hair. He hasn't looked all that alright for a month, either, and he hopes she doesn't notice that. "Anything happen?" He asks, with genuine worry.

She acknowledges his question, but ignores it anyway. "I'm sorry I lied to you." There's silence in the room, and Lorelai replays in her head the last time they saw each other. They shouldn't have said such awful things, she shouldn't have snapped at him. The discussion, the blue and pink ribbons, this last memory of him.

"Should have trusted you," he says sadly.

"Yeah, you should have," Lorelai tells him, playfully.

"You shouldn't have lied," he replies, impatient.

She shrugs, as if it never mattered. It's easier to let go than to drown in the sorrow, she finds.

"There were other things," he says more to himself than to her. Her parents, Christopher, those eight years, Rory, the town, the overwhelming feeling of _every_ thing they did. He sits on the stool beside her but they stay quiet. She drinks her already cold coffee, thinking that she should have finished it while it was hot.

"Lately, I've been wondering if maybe we could do it."

He stares at her, urging for her to keep going. She doesn't; it frustrates him that he can't predict her as well as he thought he could. "How, Lorelai?"

Lorelai's breath catches in her throat, she can't say she was expecting that. How? She looks around, waiting for an answer. The glowing sunset light that had been coming through the blinds is gone now.

"A luthier builds instruments," she says bluntly. She doesn't think even she knows where that came from, sometimes she doesn't know those things. "Maybe we could build them too."

"Building takes time," he replies and she knows what he's implying. She never should have said that they couldn't wait, she doesn't mean that anymore, maybe she never did.

She feels her heart being torn apart. "I'm not going anywhere," she answers, doing her best to sound convincing. "Except for New York, this weekend to see this thing for the Inn," she adds thoughtfully.

"We've got plenty of time," Lorelai assures him, and herself. She does sound sure this time.

He contemplates, would it all be worth it, everything again? His life is just getting back on track, and he doesn't think of her whenever he goes to sleep anymore (not as much, anyway). He sees her eyes transfixed on him and smiles. He pats her knee gently and they both feel a spark of electricity; she's happy she's wearing a short shirt.

She sees his hand hold the stool as if to push him up and she doesn't expect him to come so much closer, so fast, but he does. His hand's still on the stool, his position is awkward and before she knows it, his lips are on hers in a soft kiss. And before she knows it, they're gone, too. Her insides dance, maybe she just imagined it; she never even had time to close her eyes. He's already standing up.

"That's cold, isn't it?" He nods to her hands.

She turns to her cup, only just noticing her strong grasp on it. She smiles sheepishly and watches him inhale before moving behind the counter, making more coffee, just for her. _Plenty of time_, she'd said. The last happy memory she has of them is of her parents wedding. Him twirling her across the floor to Moon River.

A luthier builds instruments; and there's such a lot of world to see, she thinks calmly.

"How was your day?" he asks after some time, while putting water in the coffee maker. He turns to steal a glance at her and she's smiling.

"God, 'walk of fame' terrible, you'd _never_ believe..."


End file.
